And the Rain Fell
by Obsidian Sphinx
Summary: This is the sequel to my earlier fic, Fox Go Home, but this can stand alone if you really want it to. Anyway, this story involves Kurama, Hiei, and how a very significant storm brings them together. YAOI


And the Rain Fell  
By: Obsidian Sphinx  
Disclaimer: So for those of you who might think otherwise, I should make it  
clear that, no, I don't own Yu Yu Hakusho. Now, I don't want to insult  
anyone's intelligence, but c'mon. If ya actually think that I would own  
that show. . . I think that maybe you should go seek some counseling. Not  
that counseling is a bad thing mind you, I mean, hey! I'm a little crazy  
too, we could go together!  
  
Author's Note: Hello! How is everyone? Good, bad? Feel free to tell me all  
about it, if and when you decide to review this fic that is. Um . . . well,  
if you've read the summary of the story, you'll find that it is actually  
the sequel to my earlier fic, Fox, Go Home. Um . . . hopefully you'll enjoy  
this, 'cause I mean, I had so much fun writing it! Well, that's it for now.  
Happy Readings! ^_^  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
A bleak, ominous sky covered the city. The atmosphere was still, and not  
even the breeze dared to cut the silence. Off in the distance, a rumbling  
echoed, a mere warning of things to come. Huge black clouds flashed briefly  
and then fell to the usual monotonous color, still trying desperately to  
contain the destructive power of the lightening that would soon break free  
of its temporary prison.  
  
Yes, this was the calm before the storm. Kurama gently placed his hand and  
forehead against the glass pane of his bedroom window. Green eyes, so  
unbelievably vivid, watched this calmness in solitude. This coming storm,  
pent and locked up within a cloudy cell, this, or something similar, was  
the replica of what he felt in his heart and in his soul.  
  
How long had it been now? A year, two, since Shiori had passed away? Kurama  
had been there, was holding her hand when her kind soul left her body. At  
least Botan had been the one to take her away, although Death had been  
crying . . . for him, for his pain.  
  
He shivered from the haunting memory. Why did he stay? Shiori had been his  
anchor to this world, to the humans. She was gone, so why couldn't he  
return, go back to his home? Often he dreamt of the wilds of the Makai. And  
yet, here he sat, living, breathing personification of the inevitable storm  
that would be coming. A youko spirit trapped within the body, the rules,  
and society of a human. A youko who wished to be free, but a human who  
wished to stay enshrouded in the moderate routine of a ningen. Where was  
his home then? His place. He wasn't sure where he belonged.  
  
A desperate sigh elicited from his mouth, lightly steaming the glass  
window. Outside it had grown shades darker, and the rolling thunder drew  
closer. The storm, it was near. Soon, that melancholy sky would begin to  
cry crystalline tears. Humans and demons both called them rain. At least  
that was something they could agree on.  
  
Kurama could not help but think it rather ironic that this day, so morose,  
perfectly matched his mood. Even the surrounding architectural structures,  
their usually colorful logos and clashing advertisements, seemed to be  
slouching in their own cement pools of sorrow. Yes, color, save for the  
boring shades of gray, was absent from the world, or at least, the parts  
that he could see.  
  
The rain began to fall hard, performing its own, lawless rhythm. Dark,  
voluminous clouds did not fail to efficiently camouflage a black streak  
across the sky.  
  
Kurama lifted his head, severing the contact he had with the window. His  
keen senses, always on alert, drew his attention away from his sorrows,  
though only briefly, as usual. He turned his green eyes to the darkness  
that thrived in his bedroom and walked quietly toward his closed door.  
Placing his hand on the brass knob, Kurama turned it and pulled it open.  
Pushing a few stray strands of crimson red hair back, he scanned the dark  
living room and bar counter kitchen. Streams of blue, stormy light flowed  
into the otherwise dark room, softly displaying the silhouettes of his  
furniture and utilities. However, there was nothing out of the ordinary,  
which baffled him, as his instincts had never failed him.  
  
Emerald green orbs fell upon the sliding glass doors that led to the patio  
outside. Suddenly, a flash of lightening, accompanied by the angry roar of  
thunder, blurred his vision and impaired his hearing quite momentarily.  
This brief interval of time was all that was necessary for a single shadow  
to land soundlessly upon the patio.  
  
Kurama blinked, trying to overcome the light spots that appeared on the  
innards of his eyelids. His vision cleared, he looked back towards the  
patio and gasped in surprise. For there, standing just outside the glass  
doors, arms folded, black cloak blowing in the increasingly strong wind,  
was Hiei. Although he was somewhat damp, striking scarlet red eyes stared  
at him as though there was no glass between them at all.  
  
There was a moment where neither moved, merely eyed one another. Kurama's  
mind raced. However, another crash of thunder caused the youko, turned  
human, to pull himself out of his daze.  
  
He hurried to the doors, unlocked them, and gently slid one side over. Hiei  
watched him all the while, although he stepped over the threshold when  
motioned to do so.  
  
" . . . It's been quite some time Hiei." Offered Kurama.  
  
Hiei, it seemed, ignored him as he summoned up a minute burst of ki that  
surrounded his petite form and dried him instantly.  
  
Kurama smiled. The fire youkai had not changed, for he still disliked the  
rain . . .  
  
"Yes Kurama, three years."  
  
Hiei's sudden reply surprised the latter demon, as he had not expected a  
response.  
"Three years." Whispered Kurama, as if the very idea brought him sorrow and  
a heavy heart. The mentioned did not go unnoticed by Hiei and he tilted his  
head ever so slightly to the side.  
  
"Come then. We've a lot to catch up on . . . that is unless you're here for  
an urgent matter," said Kurama, voice as kind and inviting as the fire  
demon remembered.  
  
"No . . ." Hiei replied, allowing his sentence to trail off.  
  
The redhead nodded and turned his back to his old partner. He headed  
towards the kitchen, and Hiei followed, taking brief notice when the soft  
carpeting gave way to the chilly, off white tiles of the kitchen floor.  
  
Red eyes watched as the fox spirit busied himself, first flipping the light  
switch to the 'on' position, and then opening cabinets, grabbing random  
items, closing cabinets, until he finally set a white tea kettle on the  
stove top.  
  
"So . . . three years. I suppose that isn't necessarily a long period of  
time . . ." Kurama paused, "to a demon." He finished.  
  
Hiei raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Silence ensued. Another bellow of  
thunder rumbled, and then another flash of lightening, followed by the  
timely whistle of the teakettle.  
  
Kurama turned to the kettle, the whistling having become louder and far  
more obnoxious. He tended to the distraction and ended by pouring the  
steaming liquid into two cups. He placed one in front of Hiei and the other  
he kept for himself.  
  
"So . . ." Began the youko, for some reason very uncomfortable. "You've  
been well?"  
  
Red eyes that had been staring at him so intently before, now looked  
downward as if the counter was the most fascinating thing in the three  
worlds. "For the most part I guess." Came the deep and somewhat sorrowful  
reply.  
  
"Mukuro?" It was a simple word, just a noun, and yet it stood for so many  
things.  
  
"I . . . we . . . no . . . I stopped working for her about a year and a  
half ago." Hiei said. The question had disturbed him.  
  
Kurama raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his tea. "Why? I thought you  
were going to become her heir, what happened?"  
  
There was a silence, and once again the fox did not believe he would  
receive a response. And once again,  
Hiei surprised him. "The . . . our relationship became . . . confused. We  
thought it better to part."  
  
Confused? That was a discreet way of saying that the relationship had  
become a bit more intimate than either youkai had wanted it to be. A frown  
marred Kurama's face briefly. Exactly HOW intimate, he wondered. Certainly,  
it hadn't gone far . . . Hiei and Mukuro were two totally different  
personalities! He sighed. Or no, they actually weren't. In all truth, they  
were much alike. So it was only logical that, given their pasts, they would  
seek comfort in each other's arms.  
  
He suddenly wished that he were Mukuro. He wanted to be the one to comfort  
the jaganashi . . . he had for a very long time . . . since, since that  
day. Hiei had warmed his soul and body. Hiei had calmed his sorrow in the  
park and then left without so much as a good-bye. Kurama remembered  
promising that he would pay him back when he returned. Then, he had turned  
and walked home to be with his ill mother. But Hiei had not come back . . .  
not until this moment.  
  
And so, all of these thoughts came to a close, begging one single question.  
"Hiei--"  
  
Suddenly, a huge crash of thunder sounded outside, followed by a blinding  
flash of lightening and then a punctual power outage. The redhead's frown  
deepened, but then disappeared when the irony of what had just happened hit  
him. He let out a chuckle and shook his head. "Come on, I have some candles  
in the bedroom."  
  
The duo abandoned their beverages in favor of what little light a few  
candles could give off. In the bedroom, Hiei took a seat on the bed while  
Kurama went to his closet to rummage around. Seconds later he appeared with  
a box of matches and four candles.  
  
"This isn't much I'm afraid, but it's all I can seem to find at the  
moment."  
  
The fox did not wait for an answer and instead began setting up the candles  
in various areas around the room. He struck a match and touched the fire to  
each candle's wick, then blew out the match. Satisfied, he strode over to  
his friend and sat next to him. Hiei was staring out at the raging storm.  
  
"Kurama." He said suddenly, not facing the one to which he had spoken.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Your mother, where is she?"  
  
Something caught in Kurama's throat, and he pulled his knees up to his  
chest, wrapping his arms about his legs. He balanced his chin atop his  
knees, and his crimson hair fell like a curtain around his face. He did not  
reply. Sorrow began to bare weight upon his heart once more. Another  
silence ensued. Both demons listened to the raging storm, hearing,  
understanding, feeling it's anger, hate, and pain.  
  
Suddenly though, much to Kurama's astonishment, he felt his hair being  
lifted from out of his side view and placed behind his ear. Green eyes  
looked over, questioning but being met by the ruby orbs of Hiei and his  
concerned expression.  
  
"Fox . . . where is she?" He asked again, only softer.  
  
Kurama swallowed a lump in his throat. Tears brimmed his emerald orbs and  
then, like a trickling stream, fell from his eyes. "She is . . . she's with  
my Father. Botan told me that Koenma made sure to let them be together."  
  
Red eyes softened and Hiei placed a gentle hand on Kurama's cheek. He wiped  
away some of those fallen tears and sighed. "I'm sorry." He said quietly.  
  
Silence ascended the room, occasionally shattered by the storm. The small  
flames upon the candles danced merrily, their shadows huge and exaggerated  
against the walls. And the atmosphere was like this for an undetermined  
amount of time.  
  
"Hiei," said Kurama, his voice just barely audible.  
"Hm?" Replied the darkly clad one.  
  
"Why did you come back?"  
  
Both demons now had their eyes looking intently outside. The window made  
annoyed groans of protest every time particularly powerful drops of rain  
hit it. The wind could be heard swooshing and the thunder roiling against  
the dark sky.  
  
"Why didn't YOU come back?" Came Hiei's question.  
  
"I . . . I don't know."  
  
Yet another silence, and then, "I suppose I had nothing to go back to. I'm  
different now, than I was . . . and so is the Makai. We would never be able  
to embrace one another the same."  
"You are scared?"  
  
" . . . Yes . . ."  
  
More silence, more listening to the storm's symphony. They watched as it  
composed a dramatic play of pain and anger, of sorrow . . . of life.  
  
"I was too, Kurama."  
  
The fox finally looked over at his friend and found that Hiei was looking  
at him as well. Those ruby eyes practically glowed in the darkness.  
  
"You . . ." Kurama began, but for a reason unknown he let his sentence  
trail, lost in river of quiet.  
"I . . . was scared. Scared to come back, for fear that . . . I . . ." A  
sigh escaped the jaganashi.  
  
He looked away as if annoyed by his own failure to conclude. Kurama's eyes  
slid over to the window. He studied the way that the rain hit the window,  
so powerful and demanding. Even though it would never breech that thick  
glass, it continued to try, truly believing that the attack was not in  
vein. The rain. So powerful . . . Kurama took a deep breath and let it out  
slowly, steadily. He now let his eyes gaze at Hiei who still looked  
somewhat exasperated with himself.  
  
"That you, what . . . Hiei?"  
  
The question lay floating in the air, unsure as to whether it should have  
even been asked.  
  
This time Hiei did not surprised the kitsune, for he gave no reply. The  
thought crossed Kurama's mind that maybe he should allow the subject to be  
dropped, but then, at that precise moment, the rain began to beat harder  
against the window. Determined.  
  
"For fear that you would what, Hiei?" He persisted, a little less patiently  
that before.  
  
Abruptly, Hiei faced him, his face holding an expression unlike any other  
that the fox had ever seen.  
  
"I . . . was afraid . . . that I would tell you what I felt . . . feel, in  
my heart. I feared my emotions . . . fear them still . . . and I . . ."  
  
Hiei seemed to be anxious and confused. Kurama silenced him by placing two  
fingers gently against his lips. All fell silent except the relentless  
storm.  
  
Green eyes searched crimson, and crimson studied green carefully. Together,  
they were lost, and they both realized this.  
  
"And what do you feel Hiei?" Asked the fox slowly, removing his fingers but  
never averting his eyes.  
  
The thunder crashed loudly and lightening flashed in defiance. The great  
wind blew the rain, sending the droplets spiraling outward in random  
directions.  
  
"I . . . feel . . ." The darkly clad one began.  
  
More lightening broke through the black clouds, and the thunder roared,  
cracking like a leather whip. The wind bellowed it's hallow protests, and  
the three powers fought. The rain, however, fell. Although it was directed  
by the wind, it merely . . . fell. The rain did not argue, it did not  
demand attention. The rain simply fell.  
" . . . Love. . .?"  
  
And with this confession in question form, the thunder ceased cracking,  
reduced then to tiny ripples of grumbling, the wind ceased its bellowing,  
now only a breeze, and the lightening grew dim, retreating back into its  
cloudy prison. The rain fell softer, still intent on what it was doing.  
  
Kurama gazed at Hiei, surprised, happy . . . he was feeling, and his heart  
swelled, beating faster against his chest. A hand, his hand, gently  
caressed the fire youkai's cheek. "Love . . . Hiei . . . you're sure?" He  
asked.  
  
Hiei's red eyes examined Kurama's features briefly. A pause and then, "Yes  
. . ."  
  
"For who, Hiei?" Kurama asked, voice trembling.  
  
The fire youkai began to breath harder, his heart was racing, it was  
pounding. Could he? Should he? So many questions to be asked, and so many  
of them lacking answers . . . and then something caught his attention. The  
rain, how it fell so randomly and yet so intricately, freely, so  
beautifully. It fell without hesitation, it fell without fear. The rain  
halted for none . . . it merely . . . fell . . .  
  
Now Hiei turned his eyes back to the kitsune. "Kurama," he asked quietly.  
"Yes?"  
"May I . . . love you?"  
  
A soft smile graced the fox's lips, and suddenly his sorrow was lifted, his  
feelings of hopelessness gone. "Yes." He answered.  
  
His place, he no longer questioned where it was. His place was with the  
fire youkai. "Hiei?" He asked.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Forever?"  
  
There was a pause, brief and yet at the same time, interminably long. Hiei  
gave a small, uneven smile. His ruby eyes seemed to twinkle as he reached a  
hand up to cup Kurama's smooth cheek. "Yes." He answered and sealed the  
promise with a kiss.  
  
-OWARI 


End file.
